A Sports Bar At 1900 Baum Road

The seven men took a seat around the table in the dimly lit sports bar. The smells of old cigarettes and greasy meat filled the air. The circular seat that circumvented the scratched wooden table was made of dark crimson leather.

"Drinks are on me, boys," Nick told them.

Board To Death

I peer around the corner of the hallway into the parlor. I hug the wall closely, sticking to the shadows--of which there are many in this vast old house. At the other end of the hallway I see the old man walk out of his bedroom and stroll casually down the hall in the opposite direction. He walks at a brisk pace, and whistles to himself as he goes. From the direction he's going, I deduce that he's headed downstairs.

SAMURAI: Acronyms

So, the guys in charge of naming stuff really like acronyms. A lot of the major weapons to come out of the SAMURAI labs are given these absurdly contrived acronyms for names. Hell, even SAMURAI is one: Super-powered Anti-Monster Unit and Robotic Arsenal Initiative. It's kind of ridiculous.

The Black Enigma: Holes, part 3

For previous chapters in The Black Enigma story, click here.

There is a hole where my dreams should be.

I try to sleep, but the dark is as elusive as comfort. I twist restlessly in my waking, and even more restlessly still in my sleep. When my eyes do stay shut, and I manage to grasp the fragile fleeting tendrils of slumber, I dream of a hole where my brother should be. I dream of bullet holes and holes in the ground, and holes in hearts. I dream of a hole, starting in the center of the city and growing outwards, devouring all in its path, swallowing the entire city into the earth. And then there is a gravestone by the hole, and as I'm about to read it, I wake, trembling, sweating, my heart pounding.

So many holes that need filling.